


The Flower of My Heart

by shepromisestheearth



Series: for i shall always adore you [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 1900s AU, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, F/F, Fluff, Picnic, Teasing, Women's Rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 03:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepromisestheearth/pseuds/shepromisestheearth
Summary: “Have a taste, my dear,” Rosemary said, passing her the wine with a twinkle in her eye, “I only hope it’s sweet enough for you.”“Anything your lips have touched.” Vinette murmured, before taking a small sip. It stained her lips a darker shade of red, and an overwhelming urge to kiss her came across Rosemary.-Set in spring of 1906, Vinette and Rosemary attend a women's rights rally. Afterwards, they return home to spend much-needed alone time together in the outdoors.





	The Flower of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, the beginning of a short story collection! This first one is rather light and fluffy, but there will be some in the future that will not be so.They will have warnings in accordance to each. If you haven't noticed already, each of these will be set in a different decade of the 20th century, and this one is beginning in 1906.   
I hope you all enjoy this- as always, if you see anything that is off or needs correction, lemme know! Constructive criticism is always welcome :).

May of 1906  
-  
IT WAS an ideal summer day for a rally. 

The sky was a clear cerulean, not a single cloud overhead. Children played on doorsteps, and laundry flapped in the breeze. Carriages trampled across the roads, carrying men of great importance that the crowd intended to capture the attention of.

Linking arms, the flesh of woman met and held. The cacophony of their cries for equality rang through the streets of Boston, the heels of their shoes clattering against the cobblestones. They hefted banners they sewed while their husbands were at work, the proud yellow and purple of the women’s rights movement. 

The rough wood of the picket sign had pierced Rosemary’s flesh, though her fingertips were hard and rough. She clenched her teeth against the pain and held the sign higher, proudly proclaiming the painted message of the newly formed Equality League of Self-Supporting Women- WORKING CLASS WOMEN FOR VOTING RIGHTS! 

Though not a working class woman herself, the person who was closest to her was- Vinette Herschkowitz, wispy black bangs slick with perspiration and a set brow. Her face was often relaxed, soft, but it bore the expression of an Amazon. 

Before long, the shrill whistles of policemen pierced the air and infiltrated their parade. Several came on horseback, their sleek umber coats accompanying the dreaded uniformed men. While they made no arrests, their presence dampened the moods of those present as they were told in stern voices that they should be returning home. 

Now, several hours later, Rosemary and Vinette had collapsed into a field of lavender not far from the Winchester Estate. 

Rose lay on her back with her arms folded across her chest, soaking in the sunshine and trying to not be too angry that their rally had been so rudely interrupted. Kneeling by her side was Vinette, who was rifling through a woven picnic basket she had packed while Rosemary changed. 

“Here, beloved, eat something.” Vinette fretted, offering a sandwich half wrapped in cloth. 

She had also taken care to pack a cluster of grapes and stuffed olives, a bottle of wine from the cellar, and a sponge cake soaked in strawberry juice and cream. 

“You spoil me, my darling.” Rose opened her eyes and her gaze lingered on the face of her lover. 

A smile grew on Vinette’s pretty mouth, and she wrinkled her nose, “I always feel like I never do enough for you.” 

“What!” Rose lifted herself from the patch of lavender, brows raised, “You never stop doing things for me!” 

“Open this wine for me, please.” She said, shaking her head.

“Vinette, I swear, my love, you are most gracious to me. How lucky I am to have the most delicate flower in the garden of the world.” Rose cooed, reaching across to press her palm against the fabric at Vinette’s knee. 

“T-thank you,” She stammered, curiously looking more rogued than before as she handed the wine to Rosemary. 

“It comes as second nature to compliment you.” Rose said, sitting up fully in order to retrieve the corkscrew. It weighed in her hand before she plunged it into the cork, and it came off with a satisfying pop and fizzle of bubbles. 

She raised the glass to her lips, made in her father’s own vineyard- the sweet taste of fermented grapes ran down her throat, sticky as wild honey. It dribbled down her chin, and she wiped it from her pale flesh, giving a sigh in contentment.

“Have a taste, my dear,” Rosemary said, passing her the wine with a twinkle in her eye, “I only hope it’s sweet enough for you.” 

“Anything your lips have touched.” Vinette murmured, before taking a small sip. It stained her lips a darker shade of red, and an overwhelming urge to kiss her came across Rosemary. 

More intoxicating than any amount of alcohol could be, was Vinette. Lips most longing to be touched, heart bleeding to be given every ounce of love one could muster. There was no doubt as to why men would constantly approach her at parties, no matter how much it boiled Rose’s blood- she was truly the most beautiful thing that had ever graced the earth. 

Rose shifted closer to her, laying a hand on top of her lady’s. Her fingertips trailed across laboring, freckled fingers, bringing it up to her mouth and pressing kisses against it. Each fingernail, down to the knuckle. Her bottom lip grazed the veins on the back of her palm, breathing I love you’s into her skin. 

“Rosemary,” Vinette whispered. 

Looking at her through her eyelashes, she clutched her hand as she drew her lips away ever so slowly. Vinette was radiant, wisps of dark hair around her face framing it in the brightness of the afternoon. Her face flushed with her easy embarrassment, a delicate hand pressed to her bosom. 

“Yes, darling?” Rosemary said sweetly, not breaking eye contact as she pressed a kiss onto her wrist. 

Vinette wrinkled her nose and pulled her hands away, trying to hide her delight, “You tease too much, Miss Winchester.” 

“Oh, that wasn’t my intention, honeysuckle.” Rose said, although it was, “Won't you forgive me?” 

Vinette gave her a side eye, raising her brows, “I suppose there is one thing you could do.” 

“How am I to oblige?”

Suddenly, she stood. Vinette turned back to Rosemary, offering a hand. She looked beautiful in the dress she was wearing, a pale white like angels in paintings wore. Rose took her hand, and stood as well. As she did, her arm encircled the thin waist of her darling, fingers seeking beneath her undercoat and against the laces of her corset. 

“What is it, darling? How can you forgive me?” Rose whispered with a tilt of her head. 

“Kiss me until my heart is full of you,” Vinette smiled, “Until the day ends.” 

Rosemary’s lips curled before their mouths met, “I believe I can be satisfied by those conditions for forgiveness.” 

And so she was.


End file.
